Bad Timing
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: Gareth returns from battle, to find things have altered in Corus - mostly concerning Roanna, the woman he hopes will be Duchess of Naxen. Written for Goldenlake's Decathlon Field Events.
1. Binding

Thanks to Lisa for the concept, betaing, and the solarium!

-

It had been a long autumn.

Gareth closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the solarium, having sought respite in the one place he reasoned people wouldn't think to look for him. He was tired, right the way through his bones, and the Champion had a thousand petty squabbles to settle. Roald had requested his presence at this ball, and Gareth had had time only to bathe and change clothes before it began.

It had taken him less than half an hour to tire, and not much longer to seek refuge.

"Your Grace, I appreciate that you have been gone for a number of months, but surely you can't have forgotten that solariums are intended for the sunshine."

He looked up, finding - as he knew he would - the sister of his first squire.

"Lady Roanna," he greeted, not quite able to summon the energy to stand for her, though he did make the effort to straighten in his seat. "You grow more perceptive every time I see you."

She laughed, and slipped inside the room. "Sir, that is what every lady longs to hear."

He watched her as she chose the seat next to him, carefully arranging her skirts. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen her in such opulent clothes. Irimor was a rich house, but Roanna rarely opted to display it so openly.

Roanna had sought him out...

Gareth cleared his throat, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. She was so young - not much older than his sister - and it had prevented him from speaking up more times than he could count. Time was going to run out for him if he didn't speak up, though. He didn't think he'd be able to bear her on the arm of somebody who didn't deserve her.

"How is the ball, in my absence?" he asked.

She threw him a side glance, adjusting her bracelets. They caught the light of the few candles he had found in the room, scattering little beams across the floor. "It is a ball," she answered. "People are dancing, the musicians are playing, and the Duke of Naxen is notable by his absence."

He couldn't quite disguise his pleasure at his absence being referred to as notable. "Are people speculating on the king's betrothal?"

"I believe some people may be," Roanna said, her eyes fixing on his. "Are _you_ one of these people, sir?"

"If you are looking for information, I'm afraid I have none to give you. Roald wrote me a letter telling me he was engaged, but not the identity of the lady. My sister will be upset once she knows - she was so fond of him, but she has been ill this past year, and I hear the Dowager Queen has impressed upon Roald the need for heirs."

Roanna nodded, and shivered - she was hardly dressed to pass the evening in a glass room, after all. "Perhaps we ought to join the rest of the ball," she suggested, rising.

"In a moment," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. If he didn't say it now, he never would. "Lady Roanna, you have always been-"

"Don't say it," she entreated brokenly, turning away from him. "I cannot bear it if you say it."

Feeling as though he had just been blindsided, Gareth swallowed hard. "My apologies, my lady. I had not thought my offer would be so unwelcome to you."

Roanna looked back at him, her face pinched. "I did not think you would be making an offer at all," she said, voice low. "I thought - I thought you would surely have spoken before now, and perhaps you weren't the marrying kind, at least not where I was concerned." She drew in a deep breath, and settled her eyes on the floor. "I took another offer."

And then it clicked. Her fine clothes. Roald's sudden interest in a woman who wasn't Lianne. The reason Roald hadn't needed to secure Gareth's approval, because he had already _known_ Gareth approved of this woman. He just hadn't thought Gareth wanted to marry her. Roald had asked about it, and oh, Gareth had brushed her aside, assuming she wouldn't want him.

"I'm a fool," Gareth murmured bitterly.

"You are. I - Gareth, I can't get out of it. I've given him my word. If you'd seen him when he proposed - he called me pulchritudinous, and then I had to have him, for I had no idea what it meant." She smiled wryly, but it didn't look right on her, not with those overbright eyes. "I thought it was an insult, but he said it was - oh, what does it matter?"

It didn't matter. Gareth knew what Roald had said. It had been Gareth's favourite line, declaring that it was the woman who made the word beautiful. Roald had been impressed, had even - Mithros - used it on Lianne. He had sworn to Gareth that it had meant something, that Lianne was the one for him.

"Congratulations."

She nodded, making the effort to compose herself. "Will Your Grace kindly escort me back to the ballroom?"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," he said wearily - how had he thought himself tired before? - getting to his feet, and holding out his arm. Roanna took it, glancing up into his eyes, and, Mithros's shield, this was going to be the hardest thing he had done in his life.


	2. Cold Inside

Written for Single Sentence Shot-Put!

The royal wedding was in January, and Gareth felt chilly despite the large fires and Lianne pressed up close against him as he watched his king take Roanna's hand. 


	3. Weak Hearts

Written for Love Long Jump!

* * *

><p>"May I come in?"<p>

Gareth rubbed his eyes, and gave Roanna - Queen Roanna, he should be used to that by now - a half-amused look. "I could not prevent you if I wished it, Your Majesty. Royal privilege."

"You could," she answered, flushing. "Naxen privilege." She entered regardless; evidently Naxen privilege would be waived for the time being. Perhaps it was the fact that she currently accounted for two royals. "How are you feeling?"

He couldn't hold back a grimace as he took stock of his physical wellbeing, assuming that she wouldn't care to hear how sometimes he thought the only thing worse than seeing her with Roald was not seeing her at all. Still, he tried, leading his men off on campaigns or border patrol in the king's name, but his feet always led him back to the palace.

"As well as could be expected."

The lie didn't convince her; she came to sit in the chair which had been set out earlier for Lianne. On closer inspection, she looked far paler than usual, and it brought out dark circles under her eyes. He wondered how much her pregnancy was taking out of her, and considered having a quiet word to his healer. "Will you promise me not to overexert yourself? At least for a little while. It isn't long till winter begins." Her fingers inched next to his, folded on top of the blankets. "Roald has me confined to the palace; he is terrified I will slip and lose the heir to the throne."

"He has your safety in mind also," Gareth said gently.

"Does he?" Roanna asked, and then shook her head. "Oh, Gareth, don't mind me. I have been in a terrible mood since - well, last night."

Last night was when he had been taken ill. Pricklings down his arm, a tightness in his chest. "Lianne told me the Queenscove boy reached me first. Seems to have a prodigious talent."

"I nearly promoted him to Chief Healer on the spot," Roanna admitted, with a rueful smile, "once he told us you were fine. I can't imagine Genlith would have been too pleased with me."

"Unlikely," Gareth acknowledged, matching her smile. "It is not much to concern yourself with; I have always known I have a weak heart."

Her hand came to rest, feather-light, on top of his. "Stronger than any other man I have ever known," she said fiercely, as though daring him to contest it. "Gareth, I cannot tell you how much I regret-"

"Hush, now," he instructed, having been about to follow through with a finger on her lips, but thinking better of it. "Speaking it aloud will help neither of us."

Roanna was silent a long time after that, her eyes on their entwined hands. He watched her face, hoping for an indication of what she was thinking. Finally, she rose, and pressed her lips to his forehead. "I will leave you to rest. Please - consider staying."


	4. Entertaining Goats

Relocating to the summer palace had always been somewhat of an event, as far as Gareth remembered it. One of his proudest memories included King Jasson, telling him he trusted him enough to place the royal family in his care. Roald had been but a page then, all determined eyes and quiet voiced as he asked Gareth to teach him how to fight.

Roald would never be a great swordsman, but he had the makings of a decent one, Gareth had observed. The trouble was, he had never desired to work at it, save in the interests of making his father proud.

And so Gareth's position under Roald's reign took on a different air, with his diplomatic skills being favoured. As his horse followed the now-familiar meandering path ahead, however, he thought back to that first time, and his veins buzzed with that same hot desire to keep everybody safe.

* * *

><p>"Sometimes I think there is nothing more beautiful than this view."<p>

Gareth turned his head as Roanna seated herself beside him on the thick rug, giving her a long look. Her cheeks turned pink, and for a moment, all the unspoken things hung in the air between them.

"Where is Caitlyn?"

"The nurse has her." Roanna shaded her eyes, looking out towards the sea. "Roger's with them. I must say, he has surprised me. In the month or so before Caitlyn was born, he was sulky and distant, but Roald had a talk to him and explained he would always be a valued member of the family. Now, well, you can't have one without the other. He is like her shadow - a vastly bigger shadow that does everything for her."

Gareth nodded his agreement. In truth, he had had little time for Roald's brother, and less time for the peculiar nephew. It was good, though, that Caitlyn was well-loved. Roald hadn't quite managed to hide his disappointment at having produced a daughter, and the girl so thoroughly resembled Fief Irimor that she might have been Roanna's child alone.

"This is the kind of day that makes me feel as though I could live forever," Roanna remarked contentedly. "Don't you agree? I would move here if I could. Permanently, not merely for the summer."

"Oh?" Gareth asked, a smirk playing around his lips. "And what would you do for entertainment, in the winter?"

"Build things out of the snow," Roanna retorted. "With the goats."

"The goats have more intelligence than you, my lady - Queen. They come further inland during the winter. Perhaps you may find a lone wolf or two."

Roanna leaned back on her elbows, looking entirely like the arch seventeen-year-old he remembered Alun of Irimor introducing him to, on her first foray into Court. "Two lone wolves? If I find them together, surely they cannot be lone."

"I suggest you would find them apart, for even the wolves would realise it was folly to stay around here, designed as it is to catch the best of the wind."

It had been far too long since he had heard her laugh, he realised. The few moments they spent together were always wrapped in wanting and needing, followed closely by self-restraint. He had forgotten how easy it was just to be with her, without letting it be clouded.

"I hold that you are jealous of my idea," Roanna said, smiling at him. "You desire this palace for yourself once the leaves start to drop. You will pretend to be off on some masterful crusade, one so brave that it will make ladies swoon at your very name. Of course, in reality, you will have been here all along, wanting for nothing."

Gareth made a dismissive sound. "And come the hot weather, you should find my deceitful skeleton, having wasted away for want of even the company of goats."

They grinned at each other for a moment. Roanna was the one to break eye contact. "You have me. I give in," she declared finally. "If I didn't freeze once the first snows came, I would be bored to death on my own."

"You would never be on your own," Gareth replied, putting a great deal more meaning into the words than he had intended. She went very still, and tilted her head towards his, gathering her lower lip in her upper teeth.

"Gareth?" she breathed rather than asked, and suddenly he couldn't even hear the waves on the shore below. His pulse began to race, and-

"Roanna! There you are!" an exclamation came from behind, and Mithros, Gareth had never hated anybody as fiercely as he hated Roald then, even though Gareth was the one about to do Roald wrong.

Roald's small party arranged themselves on or around the rug where possible, and Gareth pulled away, letting Lianne take his place whilst he got to his feet.

"Here's my brilliant, clever wife," Roald announced, threading his fingers through Roanna's, who was beginning to look faintly sick. "Darling, I asked you not to go wandering off." He cupped her face in his hand; not normally given to displays of affection, Roald had been unusually tactile since arriving at the summer palace.

It hit the Naxen siblings at the same time. Lianne stumbled to her feet, grasping hold of Gareth's arm, her long fingers digging into his flesh. He barely noticed.

Roanna was pregnant again.


	5. Pulling Threads

"You took longer than I expected."

Gareth nearly dropped his stack of papers on opening the door. "Your Majesty. I was expecting-"

"My brother?" Roanna's mouth curled into a smile, but her eyes were strangely empty. "I thought you'd know for certain that the note was actually from me when it told you to meet me in the solarium. Or did you often reconvene with Alun here?"

In truth, Gareth's mind had been so preoccupied with Roanna and thoughts of the last time he had even entered the solarium all those years ago that he hadn't suspected a ruse. It looked much different in the daytime, the late autumn sunshine sending rays through the glass ceiling. The more marked difference was in Roanna, looking frail and wan against the golden cushions.

Knowing he shouldn't, Gareth closed the door.

"It's been a while," Roanna said quietly, picking at the embroidery on the cushion next to her. "We haven't been alone together since that first day at the summer palace, when you were called away. Urgently. You weren't really called away, though, were you?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

"I knew you weren't; I asked the guards. No messengers that day, not for you. You were going to kiss me that afternoon."

"Roanna, please - we cannot speak this way."

Roanna pursed her lips, beginning to unravel the stitching on the cushion. "Why not? I love you, Gareth. I have loved you since I was a girl, and crawling into my husband's bed felt like a betrayal of you - of what we were, or could have been."

He came to kneel at her feet, at once thrilling and nervous at being so close to her. "Roanna - Mithros, you're burning up. You are not well."

She half-smiled at him, some of the life coming back into her eyes. "I am well enough. It is easier with you here. Will you promise me you won't go anywhere?"

"I will stay if you ask it of me," he said in a low voice, "though truly, I think it best for all of us if I find other engagements."

Roanna took his hands in hers, trembling. "I lost the baby, Gareth. Roald left as soon as he could be sure I was going to live. He doesn't care for Caitlyn - she wasn't enough for him. He's gone to Naxen." She pressed her lips to his knuckles. "I'm yours. If you will have me."

Gareth stared up at her, his fingers tightening in hers. "Truly?"

"Truly," she confirmed. "Do you know, I used to fear that you would find somebody else, and I would have to watch you in wedded bliss?"

He smiled, because now, at least, that life was behind them. "There was no danger of that. There was never anyone for me but you."


End file.
